


Ariadne auf Naxos

by faeyrearcherons



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff without Plot, No Plot/Plotless, these two deserve more fanfics, underrated power couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:06:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25891054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeyrearcherons/pseuds/faeyrearcherons
Summary: Sometimes Ariadne forgot that Dionysus is also a god of madness. Very early in life the son of Zeus learned madness could be used as a weapon and he did not hesitate to use on those who hurt the ones he loved.
Relationships: Ariadne/Dionysus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Ariadne/Dionysus (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)/Other(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 88





	Ariadne auf Naxos

Sometimes Ariadne forgot that Dionysus was also a god of madness. Very early in life the son of Zeus learned madness could be used as a weapon and he did not hesitate to use on those who hurt the ones he loved. 

“I could make him pay,” Dionysus murmured.

Ariadne was silent. Unable to say no but not willing herself to speak the word she wished deep in her vengeful, angry heart.

As if sensing her internal struggle, he went on: “I could turn him mad, a victim of his own paranoia and hubris. Foaming at the mouth, clawing at his own flesh. The Athenians – who value reason above all else – would never accept him as their king. He would suffer banishment and slavery.” He spoke so matter-of-factly, it’s as if he was reciting a mathematical equation or musing an epic poem.

His arms tightened around her and she closed her eyes, relishing the sensation of being held. With a long, soundless sigh, she did her best to memorize the feeling. Soft, warm contentment slipped through her, and the ache of loneliness she’d endured for years went silent for the first time since Androgeus was murdered, since Icarus flew too close to the sun, since Theseus left her to die.

Ariadne idolized Androgeus, Crete's golden-haired prince. Unlike her father, Androgeus never treated her as lesser because she was not a son. Androgeus would take her and her sister Phaedra outside the palace of Knossos and see how their people lived.

How can a king rule could justly if he didn’t know the plights of his people? If a ruler only receives praise under fear or for favoritism, they are doomed to become a terrible leader. Androgeus had all the qualities of a great future king and Crete had a promising future.

Until he died.

Isolation was Crete’s greatest strength. While the Athenians had their politicians argue and the Spartans had their armies conquer, and the Trojans built their walls ever higher, the Cretans sung, drank, and danced for the frenzy of life. 

When Androgeus died so did that fervor. But where there was tragedy, Minos saw opportunity. An opportunity for Crete to put Athens in its place.

Thus, she met Icarus. Daedalus had built the Labyrinth and his son Icarus taught her how to navigate it safely.

Poor Icarus, he was only a lonely boy with a senile father for company and needed a friend.

Pitiful Ariadne, a lonely princess with only the screams of the Minotaur's sacrifices for company. After Daedalus had been imprisoned, Ariadne sneaked into the maze to visit him at least once a week.

She had hoped he and his father flew far, far away from the prisons of Knossos. 

_Better you know the ugly truth than a pretty lie,_ Theseus warned her before telling her of Icarus' true fate. He though he did her a kindness, but it only wrenched her heart to pieces. Ariadne wept for her lost friend as the ship sailed away from Knossos. 

The wild beasts of Naxos were more gentle than he. Oh Theseus, how could he go and leave her to die? Ariadne risked everything for him. 

“When you were compassionate and merciful, he wronged you in the most unforgivable way,” Dionysus' voice was raw with anger. 

“I do not want to make a hasty decision right now,” she finally said.

Dionysus did not press her further, only said, “Whichever fate you decide, the offer will always stand.” 

Ariadne knew if it were up to Dionysus, Theseus would suffer in ways she could not imagine. Though she knew he would not, no matter how much he wished. It would be her choice and her decision. 

It was easy to forget Dionysus was also a god of uninhibited madness. All she knew was his gentleness, the tender way he kissed her forehead, or whispered into the shell of her ear. _Darling, beloved, my heart._

Theseus' honeyed words made promises of Athens in its wisdom and splendor. His eyes were like the sun, and she was the Icarus who flew too close. Had he never abandoned her, Ariadne would’ve become the Queen of Athens. Ariadne knew she had no chance of becoming queen of Crete - she had two brothers. Though looking back, she took for granted the freedom Crete offered its women compared to the rest of Hellas.

_Maybe I was too ambitious, too sly for him. Sweet Phaedra would be easier to control._

Locked away to be used as a vessel for childbearing. She did not envy her younger sister. Phaedra may have won the battle for Theseus' heart and his throne, but Ariadne won the war. Now she has a greater kingdom than any city-state in Hellas, her husband is above any mortal king, and all the maenads in the Mediterranean are their subjects.

 _Beloved Consort of Dionysus, Mistress of the Labyrinth,_ her subjects would croon. The _Dodekatheon_ saw themselves as above all else to the point that they wouldn’t even marry Titans or other immortals they considered ‘lesser gods.’ They had lovers among them, sure, and a few were recognized as a god’s consort, but never a wife. Ariadne would be the first mortal woman to marry a god. 

“Why are you smiling?” Dionysus asks.

Ariadne touched his bare cheek gently, with the tips of her fingers. “As a princess of Crete, I always knew I’d have to make a politically advantageous match. I never thought I would marry for love, let alone a god. I always thought the Olympian gods to be cruel.”

“We can be,” he admitted, “especially with things we consider to be ours. I am a _god_ , after all” he said. She quirked an amused and yet distinctly unimpressed brow in his direction. When she made no reply, Dionysus pressed a kiss to the top of her hair, “But I will never be cruel to you. Not as long as you love me.”

“And you for me,” she replied. If he was going to demand faithfulness from her, she would expect nothing less in return. Theirs would be a marriage of equals. When it became apparent that Dionysus’s feelings were more than just _Eros_ , Dionysus gave her a thyrsus of her own. 

“You are the only one that I want.” She felt him smile against her skin. Of course he already knew that, he just wanted to hear it from her lips. 

Ariadne couldn’t help adding dryly “So stop turning all the men of Naxos into snakes.” 

Dionysus laughed and Ariadne loved the sound of his laugh. Deep, rich, and melodic. "It happened _one time.”_ She playfully shoved his shoulder, a push that became a caress. Such soft, smooth, and pale skin. Pale as marble, so unlike the typical rough, tanned skin of Greek men. 

“It happened twice.”

“You do not go unnoticed, darling. I’ve practically had to keep away any potential suitors with my thyrsus.” His hand came up, cupping Ariadne's chin up lightly and tilting her head up. 

“Just as I’ve had to shield you from overenthusiastic maenads,” she replied. Her eyes never left his. 

“Aren't we a fine pair? We protect each others virtue." He kissed her and she let him. He tasted like honey and wine. 

She couldn’t help giggle. He stared at her in awe. He always looked at her that way, as if _she_ was an immortal goddess and he a loyal supplicant. 

“I love you,” he whispered against her hair, “with my whole heart.”

She looked up at his to a handsome face, prettier than any man she’d ever seen. Eyes like violets and hair as dark as the night sky. 

“I love you,” she replied, staring into the depths of his dark eyes, “with my whole soul.” 


End file.
